Seeds of Rewritten Reality - Drabbles & Other Imperfections by D
by classydash
Summary: Contains the said-to-be canon "The Missing Scene" from We All Go A Little Mad (S04E06) as well as other TVD related drabbles penned by D. Featuring Klaroline, Kennett, & other popular ships. {FYI this was formerly just "The Missing Scene," but it made more sense to post all my drabbles and oneshots together in one neat place}


"You don't say." Klaus elicited in a casual tone speckled thickly in self-satisfied bemusement, as though pleased she'd fessed up, that rich timber rolling luxuriously forth, a refined old-world accent that wrapped around her soul and promised one thing; a full dose of killer class.

_Literally a killer_, Caroline reminded herself, haughtily, with that ever-stubborn drive to remain indifferent when it came to all things _Alpha male_, at least when that male was _him_, and so she crossed her arms about her chest, the last defense to guard a curious heart, adamantly refusing to accept anything but disdain for him.

Unrelenting, feverish disdain.

Or so became her vivid mantra of the eve; the one that she clutched with every ounce of her being, refusing to accept defeat in this matter.

In fact, Caroline was completely willing to fly in the face of blissful ignorance and consciously overlook the teeny, tiny fact that she was not exactly what one could claim… _above_ falling under the very classification of the _monstrous_ moniker.

No, _that_ much was easily ignored. What wasn't, however, was the charm he oozed like most men did sleaze.

He was being genuinely… _pleasant._

Real. Relatable. She'd even strike so far as to claim likable.

Hell, if he wasn't _Klaus Mikaelson_, he'd be exactly her type…

Worldly, handsome, obsessively attracted to {seemingly} only her, and strong enough to take on anything; _everything_…

And then there were the drawings.

Not to mention what he'd said tonight, words that had caused a strange aching deep within the cavity of her chest, heartstrings twanged. _That he wouldn't have let him_. He'd meant it too. Caroline wasn't sure how – much less why – but she knew this. And what's more, she _believed_ it.

Okay, so maybe the Mikaelson was finally getting to her, carving a personal niche of his own beneath that metaphorical skin with those charged, sensual looks that seemed to be solely reserved for her. Like he'd never entertain the thought of another woman, not even as such a close friend, and though she strove to believe Tyler's claimed innocence, even tried to befriend the girl she felt pangs of jealousy towards – ignoring the pain that it had been someone else, _not her_, that had helped him break that sire bond was next to an impossible task.

Try as she might to forget all that, and remember all these feelings to be petty, Caroline was overcome with the strangest sense that Klaus was angry at Tyler _for_ her. Like he was personally offended, like he would never dream of behaving in such a way – _talk about ironic!?_

And that, folks, was the real kicker, what got her at the core.

As though she was the only one that mattered, the only one he'd care to save, much less spare from his typical wicked ways.

Hook, line, and damning sinker.

What was more, with that lazy lupine grin he brandished boyishly, framed as it were by the most immaculate set of dimples she'd ever seen, he was both near impossible to deny and unnaturally charming.

Especially when a traitorous side of her, supressed though it was – or that she tried to make it - desperately wanted to see the light harbored within, earnest in her belief that he possessed the potential to be good.

That he could _care_.

Caroline adamantly denied that such had anything to do with any sort of attraction. _Nope. Nada. Nothing there. Moving right along folks._

Perhaps that was why she so easily derived that he didn't seem, or at least hadn't acted, the least bit surprised by her unprecedented confession. In fact, the way he'd shrugged off her admission with a smooth roll of muscular shoulders and a wickedly delighted grin implied he was _pleased_ she'd fessed up, while simultaneously affirming that this was in fact not actually news to him.

_He knows it's a trick._

Caroline swallowed, the thin skin on her throat rippling with the gulp of resignation, silently taking in how coquette he was in demeanor, like she'd strolled straight into his devious, master plan, a mere pawn to his obsessive games aimed at wooing her into strict possession; _his,_ that is.

Or so said that look, which was entirely wolfish as it flicked up at her, hungrily - for what she could only imagine - and for once, Caroline was forced to secede she didn't entirely mind this interaction...

Too bad she had to throw a wrench into this civil encounter, and by _too bad_ she totally meant she wasn't looking forward to this night at all. Yeah, _right_. Try telling that to the red box strung up inside, the one that beat a mile a minute and felt about a pulse away from spontaneous combustion every time he looked at her like that.

Or smiled.

Or the fact that she'd dressed to the nines and spent a good three solid hours neurotically obsessing over her appearance. She'd _never_ taken so long, nor wasted as much time kissy-lipping the mirror in all sorts of practice poses, triple-checking every detail, feigning the belief it was but a way to ensure her safety. Yeah, that certainly explained why she'd been oh so meticulous in her quest to inspect every last angle with a critical eye and inexplicable nerves.

Nerves like the ones that hit now, unexpected and bound within anxiety over the bomb she was about to drop. _Oh God, he's going to kill me_. Yet fear of death wasn't what inspired the nervous school-girl laugh; it was that damn smile and the very simple - she liked to think human - fact that she didn't want to be the one responsible for turning it upside down.

Maybe that was why she'd gratefully accepted that drink.

Too bad she found herself enjoying it. That had been unexpected – _hadn't it?_

Her mind and heart seemed to war over the result of this internal question, but in the end her innate need to wield honesty won out, squelching any desire to maintain this silly rouse a moment longer.

Especially when that text came through.

_Better just get it over with_, she thought in means to gather the guts and so, before she could convince herself otherwise, Caroline hastily spat it out. The truth; or at least the start of it. "I came here to distract you so that Stefan could break into your house." This was rushed out on a single breath, surprised yet again at her ability to maintain his intense gaze, the one that was forever unflinching.

It was much harder watching him swallow, watching those lips twitch – as if hurt.

Terrified at what all this implied, and yet lacking the will to look away, Caroline was as locked in this embrace of eyes that struck like dynamite the moment he glanced back up at her, as though wound up in an intimate tangle of limbs.

The strong, visualize connection enlighteningly grim.

Connected, as though by the act of compulsion; yet it was only due to a fierce mix of free will and a desperate need to save her dear friend that the rest of the words were vomiting out, erratic in manner with an anxious flip of her hair.

"Which he _did._" Sucking in a sharp inhale for courage, Caroline mustered up her strongest mental power suit – okay, so it was a dress, and a sexy one at that – and pressed forward for the sake of her friend with a nervously flirtatious smile intended to lessen the blow. "And don't get mad… but then he _lost her_."

In that instance, _everything_ changed.

She saw the shift, blunt and sudden, from adoring puppy to the vicious wolf coping with insatiable bloodlust. Wild, raw, was his anger. It started in his eyes, a broadening of pupils that transitioned quickly into the direct loss of dimples. To which she spared an abstract and temporarily relieved thought, _Thank god. _Itwas much easier to despise him when he wasn't smiling like that … and that smile was really working a number on her resistance, straining it thin, till it was looming on the brink, teetering on that damn point of breaking, as though it – and her life as she knew it – could snap at any moment and catapult everything past the point of no return.

_With him._

The man they claimed couldn't love.

The antagonist to everything she stood for, or thought she had – namely her friends.

The man whose chord of anger she'd just plucked, not by personal admission – _did I really just spill the beans!? Why didn't you just lie?!_ – but by the weight of the hefty afterthought. Hell, she might have gotten away with it – if she'd just left out that last little detail. He'd been unnaturally calm, patient even, as though aware of their ruse all along – had taken it in stride, like this was all part of _his_ plan. Until she'd mentioned Elena was gone.

Then shit hit the fan.

For one bitterly sweet, yet absolute briefest of moments, Klaus's eyes bore with angst relentlessly into hers, the anger as obvious as her guilt, and frankly Caroline hadn't a clue which of the two currently held her heart in a more stifling chokehold as a thousand and one emotions flashed darkly in those murky bedroom eyes. The very same ones that usually basked in her light adoringly were clouded currently with raging indecision, as though plagued by the strength of character it took to ignore his inbred instincts to hurt, to slaughter, in order to swallow back the fury and drown it with reason.

This plan would have worked out much better, she realized with the strangest most inexplicable sinking sensation, had Elena just not gone missing!

He'd watched her, with the allusively keen eyes of a natural born hunter, highly aware, alert to the most minuet-detail, and in tune with her every exhale, with every fluctuating flutter of the heart that raced {or so he chose to think} for him, as though it were his own.

But this was not as one might expect be due {not solely} to the undeniable attraction he harbored for her, but because Klaus didn't quite trust this radiant creature – who despite a vigorous campaign on his part to feign otherwise – repetitively caught his eye. But trust? No, not that. _Never that_. Even if he'd wanted to, which I assure you he stringently didn't, Klaus couldn't find the capacity within to even try, what with these childish games she insisted on being a part of.

Hah. _Trust_.

What a foolish, redundant concept. Trust got people killed, or worse, hurt and if there was one thing he feared above all else, it was someone – _anyone_ – holding that sort of sway over him, especially not her. The past pains wrought on by emotions enough to strive him from ever wanting to experience such anguish again. 52 years, 4 months and 9 days of madness had been enough, and let's not even bring up that Tatia-whore's name. He'd rather die than experience anything of the sort again. _Feelings_. Hah. Pesky be thy name, and the bloody things got in the way of everything.

Caroline's words only reaffirmed why he lived by that bitterly held mantra.

_We do not love; we do not feel_.

Yet even as the admission fell from those admittedly kissable lips, the ones he'd once or twice caught himself staring at with the strongest desire to experience, Klaus couldn't believe his ears.

Elena. Gone. Lost.

_You fucking fools!_

He couldn't trust anyone, not even her, his precious Caroline to do what was right – if by right, you meant by him.

Rage like no other swelled, combusting sanity in the same instant that he was up, flying off the stool and barely suppressing the urge to snap the neck of the messenger, ie – hers. Had it belonged to anyone but this ravishing blonde, he would have, without thought or care.

As it stood, bypassing this very instinct took all his self-restraint and then some, until he turned like the real man he was – when it suited him – to leave, abandoning her without word, too furious to voice the thoughts brandishing about his head, that amounted to colorful, burning insults at their damnable stupidity.

He didn't have time to bask in contempt of their idiocy; he _had_ a mad doppelgänger to find, before the wrench did an undoable number on herself. What was this hypocrisy that had him acting as Elena Gilbert's solely competent baby-sitter!? Truth be told, Klaus had never predicted to see this day, given that once the opposite – her death – had been his _highest_ priority. How ironic that now he needed her alive – preferably back as a human again – more than anything.

Which was why he didn't plan to stop for anything, or anyone, already half-way to the door and determined to track the damned insufferable strumpet down, but then her voice caught him in a desperate plea. His name striking him still when issued from luscious lips, like a bag of bricks that ultimately rendered him only angrier, spinning to a halt, snarl already registered and features clouded with the pivot. Whirling on the girl who dared defy him, whose stupid little games were not only growing obnoxious, but were only going to get her so-called friend killed. So what if his motives were seeped in that of the ulterior nature? He'd been trying to help Elena!

Sure, his methods were questionable – but what did any of these young bucks know about the travesties of insanity? They didn't know. They hadn't experienced the horrors of one's own mind, when it turned so traitorous as to question their every lick of worth, when tasked with the weight of holding up one's chin in the face of such self-hatred. These kids, these incessantly young fools, seriously thought they knew better than him!?

The very thought was laughable. Or it would have been, had the consequences of their actions not been so damnable severe. Elena had not the strength of character nor the will to save herself from this. She'd be a goner once the sun woke from its nightly slumber.

Which meant he didn't have much time to fix this mess they'd unwittingly created with their ill-placed attempts to save the day. How frustratingly vexing.

If you asked him, they should have been grateful he'd shown such an invested interest in her well-being, regardless of whether they thought him their enemy. It was redundant; surely they realized the doppelgänger was more valuable to him alive then forever indisposed? Stefan should have known, but then again his old Ripper friend was not half the man he used to be, when he'd been compelled.

Glaring daggers at the beauty he'd meant to woe, Klaus reacted to the deception the only way he knew how; by threatening her very existence, naturally. "Caroline, you're beautiful, but if you don't stop talking, I _will_ kill you." The deadpan tone implied he was just as deadly serious.

He meant it too, or at least he thought he had until she uttered the very last thing he'd ever expected – aside from another offer of hot hybrid sex, that is.

"They figured out how to stop the hallucinations!" Deer-eyed and desperate, Caroline said this so fast and with such riveting conviction it had him throwing on the instant breaks, sharp and sudden and snapping her a curiously heated glare.

_Did they now? _Well, well, wasn't that an interesting plot twist.

Taking the bait, if only out of curiosity, Klaus flicked a cold, calculating stare up and down her flawless body, half tempted to drop the noble pursuit and just take what he wanted, claiming the mate that was rightfully his – and loomed intimately closer, as though debating whether it was worth the wait to hear her out or not.

His expressive somber gaze hardened with the intensity of impatience, looking at her so hard it was as if he were plucking the truth out of her very eyes, or at least screwing them for all it was worth. Whatever he found, Klaus must have bought it because he relaxed enough to give her the chance. Again, someone he wouldn't offer to anyone else – likely not even his siblings.

"Okay." Even still, that didn't mean jack, only shit, and should his woman find herself infuriating him again, her fate would be far worse for daring to waste yet more of his time when that damned doppelgänger was undoubtedly moments away from staking all his grand plans in the bloody kicker. "You have ten seconds..."

She'd never seen him so furious, at least not at her, and for a split second thought the Original might actually make good on his threat, cringing inwardly at the volatile expression of raw, untapped anger. Her throat rippled, swallowing back the gulp which drowned out the girlish giggle. Caroline found herself suddenly rendered apprehensive under the intensity of his streaming brand of all-consuming attention, aware of how close he was to diving off the deep end and losing that remarkable restraint, inexplicably enlightened to how much control he displayed in the sheer will to keep calm.

It was the only thing keeping her alive right now, a fact tell-tale by his impatient scowl that only darkened with her hesitation in providing that which he asked, no, demanded; _answers_. "Caroline, love, tick-tock." He stepped closer, eyes squinting and intimidating in posture as he fixated that killer stare on her, hawk-like eyes unrelenting as his head cocked to the left, and cheeky peepers bore straight into the pit of her soul, rendering her strangely awestruck by the depths of his own expressive need, reflected back.

Perhaps it was merely a case of wishful thinking on her part, but Caroline was convinced in the strange conviction that there was more to this man – this monster – than meets the eye.

Utterly shocked by the spark in their chemistry - that very same spark which now left her chest heaving rapidly, till the swells of breasts barely maintained their modesty; perhaps she'd gone a little overboard with the whole cleavage thing – she stumbled over the explanation, "Jeremy! it's Jeremy!"

Klaus issued her a quizzical expression at this, cocking his head to the other side and elevating a skeptical eyebrow, his silent invitation to go on. So she did, finding strength in his lack of aggressive action, as though reassured he meant her no real, genuine harm, as though that death threat had just been an idle menace meant to gain her instant compliance and nothing more, as if issued merely out of forcible habit.

"It's Jeremy," Caroline quickly reiterated, that ever present smile suddenly jittery under his darkly intense observation, subconsciously chewing on her own lip as she struggled over the details of this explanation. "He's a hunter and-" Klaus opened his mouth {no doubt to interrupt her again} but this time Caroline didn't let him, instead snapping out more in a desperately hopeful tone – he just had to agree to help them. "He's got one of those invisible tattoos!"

Klaus was just about done with her, ready to turn off those emotions that she terrifyingly inspired {the ones that – in the right moments, he'd even contemplated putting up with for a sake that was all hers} and leave before alas, she joined the notches – not on his bed – but on his list of dead bodies, fallen in the name of blind rage. He would not allow such perfection to perish, and had been so, so very ready, to leave but couldn't.

Another of the five?

Well now, that changed _everything_.

Not that he let as much interest show, instead just leaned a touch back and cocked yet another arrogant eyebrow. "So? I fail to see how this affects me," Klaus uttered hotly, this veil of indifference his shield against how desperately he wanted her, how desperately his body craved her, a means of pushing all that – specifically her – away, and keeping her there. At such a safe distance.

She hesitated, and it made him feel both powerful and strange. Guilt was not an emotion he'd associated with in years, and wasn't as quick to recognize it now as it struck the metaphorical nail on the head, leaving him staggered by the overwhelming desire to wrap that hurt creature up in his arms. It was the sort of warning tick that was generally his compulsion to act out, strict in his steadfast diet of avoiding anything so emotionally charged.

"I, uh-" She began, explanation both weak and lacking as the beautiful thing no doubt wracked her mind for a way of tricking him into compliance. Klaus couldn't help but smirk, self-satisfied by his successful dodge of that emotional bullet.

"Elena!" Caroline finally got out, but as far as answers went, it was short and altogether unconvincing. It only reminded him of his now vexingly necessary mission to save the day, yet again. The fact they wished him dead was ridiculous, considering how often he'd saved them; her, her friends – even Tyler lived because he willed it. The whole thing was laughable, that these so called good guys repetitively chose to single him out as this horrendous monster, incapable of an ounce of decency…

Until the moment they required his blood as their salvation. Oh no, then it was all Klaus this and Klaus that. They were so pathetically quick to beg for his help then, especially when it concerned their precious, precious Elena. Damn bitch was lucky she was the doppelganger, or he wouldn't tolerate her existence.

So again, Klaus arched a brow and scowled down into her pretty face. "Your point? Because frankly, love, you're only proving mine." He pulled a face that implemented his point, driving the prick of that nail home. "I _had_ her. She was safe in my possession until you and your Scooby gang showed up with your rubbish little act." Klaus snarled, and felt like shaking her, but knew from experience it would do little to stir up any sense. "Now she's lost, as good as dead." Stated matter-of-factly, in a tone that implied he didn't understand how she failed to grasp this.

_Damn it, Caroline._

They – _she_ – should have just trusted him, and in this frustration he certainly didn't give a dime that he was turning the page on the book of hypocritical, far too infuriated at these whole unheeded situation –this threat to the potential continuation of his hybrid race – to grasp the stark irony.

Okay, well admittedly, not so much that he failed to grasp it, more that he'd just hadn't even mentally broached the topic to consider it.

He had more important things occupying his mind, like denying those pesky feelings and trying to keep that bubbling rage in check, long enough to refrain from taking any of that frustration out on her. Like he was known to do, regardless of who that unfortunate bastard was yet, Caroline, somehow, had found herself the exception. The sole person he refused to hurt, and the very reason it was so hard to stay and listen, when every bone in his body lusted for pain, lusted to attack.

If only so he didn't – couldn't – feel.

"Caroline, don't waste my time." Klaus began, tone tinged in vexation. Sharper than normal, blatantly affected, though he hoped his narrow eyed glare would distract from that. The last thing he needed was this cunning creature discovering the power she held over him. It was already dangerous, the way she could both wield and dictate his actions.

Why else was he still standing here when he had the damn day to save?

"Your friend is quickly running out of it. I'd advise you to let me go clean up the mess this childish game has caused," Klaus reprimanded, yet even this seemed to come out as a freaking compliment, inflection strangely soft as his eyes soaked her in, tenderly. "Now let me go save her for you." He stated, as though doing so entirely for her cause – a lie perhaps, but the statement still held its own fraction of truth. He genuinely didn't want her to lose a friend, a drastic turn from when he'd desired them both as his sacrifice. "Unless, love, it's your will to see her dead by leeway of her own bloody hand?"

Now that, redundant or not, _finally_, seemed to catch her attention. Typical.

"Klaus!" Caroline scolded, finally finding her strength again, back-bone erected in the face of this direct threat to her friend's life. At least she viewed it as a threat, refusing to acknowledge the fact that maybe – just maybe – enough had changed that he no longer wished that particular doppelganger deader than a doornail.

Hands on hips, and lower lip sticking petulantly out, Caroline threw sass in his face regardless of that fact he claimed to have Elena's best interested at heart. _Yeah, right. I'm not that gullible_, she thought with a huff. Only, that wasn't entirely a true statement, for it was getting harder and harder to refute the side of her that did, in fact, take him for that very word. But stubborn enough to add that to yet another thing she adamantly denied about him, Caroline just rolled those large, azure eyes of hers and scoffed openly.

"Oh come on, you locked her up!" The skin around her eyes crunched, forehead equally wrinkled with doubt as she jutted out a confident hip and tossed that long curly mane of blonde hair. "Don't give me that you-were-doing-us-a-favor-crap" Again, this was snapped in a haughty, overly assured tone, convinced this had to be the truth. Klaus, for his part, looked stuck somewhere between wanting to shake her brain to mush and leave in a frustrated huff.

To his credit, he did neither.

Which only unsettled her more, and Caroline found herself inhaling sharply through a nose that slightly whistled with the rush of it, only to have that same breath caught, suspended within the cavity of her chest as once again their eyes aligned in a long, heated lock that even she – the reigning Queen of denial – couldn't abjure as being brim with sexual tension.

Her gut caught, twisted, and burned. A painfully pleasant experience, one that left her bravely questioning his desire; of all the handsomely suave, wealthy men in the world, why did this one – arguably their enemy – have to be the one that genuinely seemed to like her!? Enough to reign his temper in check and stay, listening, when it was quite clear he'd had it up to here with all of them. "Klaus," she stated then, in a slightly whiny tone and a huffed shrug to match, head twisting to one side as though keenly trying to reason him to see things their way.

He relented, resigning to lean back as he fixated her with a hard, long stare. "What, Caroline?" The hybrid finally asked, demandingly soft, yet shoving aside the anxiety that had been in an increasing state of intensity since he'd learned just how disastrous their ruse had made things. "What do you expect of me?" Even Klaus didn't realize just how doubly loaded this question became, erected in a manner that suggested he thought himself incapable of being that which she wished. That he'd never be more than the cold, calculating mastermind they all painted him out to be. The selfish bastard with no sense of decency; even she'd thought him capable of murdering her on her birthday. While she lay sick and defeated in bed, no less.

He might have been a monster, but Klaus lacked the evil required to kick someone when they were down.

No, that had been his father's M.O.

"Caroline, if you have something you wish to say, do it now. Elena doesn't have much time." Nor did he have much patience left for this, torn between a thousand different feelings, all but one of them ones he wished to drown in his rage. "She killed a hunter, Caroline. There are _consequences._" She hardly seemed to hear his words, going on and on about irrelevant subjects until he responded in a brisker, more direct tone. "The longer she's a loose cannon, love, the higher the probability she will take her own life."

"Elena wouldn't do that." Caroline affirmed, with arms that crossed now about her chest, tightly, as though such a stance gave her authority in this scenario and Klaus could only shake his head and fight the urge to throw his hands up in the air, resorting to a dramatic eye roll instead, although his fingers did curl and uncurl into fists and back again by his side, eyes narrowed in objection. Caroline grew even more defensive at this, as though fighting for the honor of her friend. "Well, she wouldn't!" To this, he could only stifle out a thick sigh and run a hand though his light brown, nigh blonde, hair. "You don't understand, Caroline. It's not a matter of-" She interrupted him, in a way he let her get away with, patient when it came to humoring her in ways he failed to be with any else. Even Rebekah would not have survived such a rude show of disrespect.

Nostrils flaring and eyes fuming, he didn't have to be a genius – although he was – to know his precious girl was infuriated as she snapped out a predictable, "How do you know?" Now it was his turn to interject with mind numbing words, before she could go off on another pointless tangent. "Because I killed _five_ of them." His eyes burnt, searing the truth behind those words with an intensity that struck at the soul like sharp, white daggers. "_Five_."

That shut her up.

Five?

He'd killed five hunters!?

She certainly hoped he didn't mean at once, but from coldly wrought expression that rotted raw agony right in his eyes, as though even the memories tormented him in ways she'd never quite grasp, she knew it had been at all at once, and found herself attempting to imagine the battle, how it had gone down and just what about it caused his voice to pitch and waver, as though overcome by emotion he'd long thought suppressed. For indeed, it showed up temporarily laced within the expression of sheer surprise.

"Well, maybe it's different; I mean, you're like a billion, so things could change, right?" Though her voice carried the expression of hope, her eyes were less convinced as she shrugged, with a wistful "time's change" all delivered with an adorably cute smile – more than half desperate for his affirmation – as worry over her friend plagued her soul stern, and yet that stubborn nature refused to believe they'd made such a volatile mistake.

It was simply unfeasible that Elena would have been better off with him.

_Wasn't it?_

"Caroline, don't test my patience." His jaw locked, tension rendering both posture and facial features rigid, save the cheek that loosely twitched to the tidal wave of emotions quickly swallowed back. She was beautiful, _but she had no bloody idea_. "Give me more credit than that, love; I understand more than you're willing to think." His tone was more deadpan than usual, as though it genuinely affected him that she was so quick to write off his sincerity – given that he didn't exactly go and make a habit of handing it out on a silver bloody platter.

"What do you mean?" Still adamant to refuse his knowledge on the situation as fact, still clutching to the root of denial as though it was her holy savior from all things Klaus, or at least from admitting he was affecting her in ways she'd never imagined she would allow. Allow? Hah, that implied she actually possessed a choice in the matter.

_If only._

"Must I repeat myself, sweetheart?" Again, he heaved a sigh as she vigorously nodded her head, those shapely lips of hers pouted in a half-open pout. "_Fine_, allow me to clarify." Lips twitched, eyes switched, from lips to eyes; hers. "I know _exactly_ what your precious friend is going through." Judging from the skepticism she wore like a blazing crown of indifference, Caroline didn't quite buy that blow-past conversing topic. How unfortunate_._

"Exactly how ca-" Caroline began but he interrupted her, cutting in by lieu of dramatically jumping up from his seat with a fever pitch; a look that registered as dead serious, and effectively stopped all her questions in their tracks. "Use your noggin', love. How would I know?" He wrinkled his eyes in all seriousness and cocked his head with an expression that screamed a thousand more words between the damning lines. Startled, Caroline choked out a gasp, clutching at her throat as she fought down the urge to be ill at the newfound notions. Things began to fall together quickly, snapping into places they shouldn't have, the quake to her mental walls. He knew she was smart enough to catch on.

To see and grasp that which had remained unsaid and delivered in one thing – the stern look.

That he'd suffered like Elena was currently suffering, undoubtedly for longer, a message delivered judging by the intensity of rare emotion that past cast both their eyes. His gutted hers empathetically likewise.

"Don't pretend to know what I've been through." Eyes condensed, narrowing to reflect his dead-pan level of seriousness, those lips curling into a growling snarl that matched. "You have _no_ idea the torment," and strangely he didn't want to get into it with her, even though she gazed upon him in a whole new way. Klaus craved her respect – dare he even say approval – but certainly not her sympathy.

That was just not a card his methodical mind was prepared to play.

Even if it would deal a deadly blow to her ceaseless resistance, but that – and it was quite a remarkable fact, if you thought about it –was just not how he wished to acquire her. Not even a hair.

Had it been, compulsion would have been just as viable. The best bet, even.

Quicker, certain – less prone to any chance at rejection; daggers tended to come out whenever that happened, which would certainly fester an obstacle between successfully claiming her.

But he wanted_ her_ to want it, to want all that he had, was, to devote to him by choice like she did to that whelp of a damned ungrateful pup. The little bitch! Damn chap didn't deserve to lick the ground she walked upon, much less bask in a light as radiant and as bright as her. It was all rubbish if you asked him.

The selfish lout didn't deserve the pleasure of calling her _his_.

Tyler would pay for that, sooner or later – as he would learn that Caroline belonged to only one man, the Alpha.

But no, compulsion would be no victory; Caroline was not that kind of conquest as strange as it seemed.

Although he wished she was, it would have been much, _much_ easier.

"So Jeremy's a hunter. What has that got to do with me, hmm?" Klaus threw her own sass in her face, striving for the words to hold more bite then they ended up rolling playfully out. Posturing with a dramatic shake of hands, habits picked up from the past. Moodily in mannerisms if only because it masked those feelings he refused to expose, even internally. "What is it you wish of me, Caroline?" He demanded, expecting a straight to-the-point answer. He'd been patient enough, after all, wouldn't you say?

Yes, quite frankly he was sick of these games!

If you asked him, the minx was being impossible.

She just had to be difficult.

As if this wasn't already a nearly unfeasible task!

Although truth be told, much of what he'd said was only beginning to sink in, emotions wrought and tugged in a million different directions, as if her mind was the rope in the eternal tug between heart and mind, between what she wanted to believe and what she actually did.

Between Tyler and Klaus, her boyfriend and the man he'd sent her to seduce.

Like a common prostitute. Minus the sex, but still, the used feeling was the same – try as she might to ignore it.

"Well, umm, the thing is… he's not quite one yet." Again, Caroline tried for the charming smile, shrugging cutely as her lips curled up in that endearing manner that oh-so-often seemed to work with this evil killer. Even if it shouldn't, even if she was stuck somewhere between denying him his humanity and being desperate that she was genuinely seeing it, that it was actually there.

He gave her a look that seemed to mirror his statement from earlier, _you don't say_. It left her with the irrefutable impression that he already knew as much. _Why did we think we could trick him!? _Caroline grew frantic then, mind stumbling over the potential for this to go really, really bad. What if he didn't agree? What if he took that knowledge to his own wicked benefit and compelled Jeremy to kill one of them?

What had made everyone think she could convince Klaus of anything?

Weren't hybrids like his everything? Part of that master bad-guy plan of his?

Those were just some of the thoughts that triggered her restless hands. Hands the wrung themselves together, fingers twisting round and round. That made her bite her lip, or sheepishly shrug a few too many times. That made her shift her weight, as though anxious to avoid this whole social situation.

Those were not at all the actions of a confident social butterfly.

But none of these anxieties plagued her so much as this little hair of logic: _A little crush wouldn't explain why someone would give up a vital part of their deepest desires._

It was only then Caroline realized he'd been talking and flushed with a weakly mouthed, _I'm Sorry, _when his thick look caught her mid-reverie. With an awkward little mouth quirk, downwards to the left, the baby Vampire again shrugged away her sudden lack of class. "Oops," she tacked on, the awkward after-thought, as he fell silent with a look that seemed disappointed. Though he didn't show it, she couldn't help but feel the strangest inkling to believe that it annoyed him when she refused to get to know him, even if it was only something as simple and mundane as listening.

_God, and now you have to ask him to sacrifice a Hybrid. _

_Why is this my job!?_

_I didn't sign up to be the bad guy's crush._

It occurred to her, in the middle of this most recent attack of thoughts, that she should probably say something – _before_ he left her to her daze. "He just needs to make a kill!" Caroline pleaded – as if she made these sort of life-ending requests all the time. Perhaps that was why a moment of amusement flickered across his hooded gaze, before his look fell firm and serious again.

"How about Damon?" He suggested wryly, giving her a testy look that made Caroline want to throttle him. "Klaus!" She began, but before she could get into why that wasn't doable, he finished for her, in a rather eccentric show of humor. "Right, right. He's your blood sire. Can't go having that now, can we?" Quirking his brows, his pointed expression went straight to her head, given the way she tossed it defiantly.

"It's a big enough town. Certainly, you can find someone to turn who won't be missed." Klaus shrugged before giving her a curious glare. "Since I presume you can't possibly be requesting I sacrifice myself for you, love."

Disturbed by the direction of his own thoughts and angry at her constant rejection of him, he turned hotly and prowled with the gait of a killer to the bar, where he could pour himself a drink, furious and ready to compel {or better yet, kill} anyone who clambered otherwise.

When he returned, which didn't take long in the grand scheme of things, a minute really – at max, Klaus wasted little time in invading her personal space, squinting down at her for a quizzically analytic second before taking the first slow sip of the alcohol, drawing back to stalk, impatiently, back and forth, playing up the level of her irritation and pausing every now and again to give her a curious stare, as though working out the particulars of some grand plan.

Then, just like that, he stopped and strolled back up to her, glaring hard and intently. "So let me get this straight. You wish for me to sacrifice one of _my - _let's not forget - very _limited _hybrids?" Stark surprise suspended his eyebrow high and remained that way as the perplexing expression worked its way down the chain, until she was staring at him as if he'd just grown a third head.

"My love, your diabolical is showing," he teased; desire swarmed strangely, intensifying his lust, as though impressed she'd go to such lengths for the name of a friend. Strangely envious of the doppelganger, in an admittedly twisted way, jealous of not being on the receiving end of that kind of loyalty from this vampire he found attractive in a whole number of manners.

"May I offer up Tyler?" He joked. If only it were that easy. As expected, Caroline was outraged at his suggestion, tossing those hands up in the air if only to slam them down, tossing around her mane of hair and saying his name in that high-pitched whine, like he couldn't believe he'd even suggest it. "Fine, fine, another one then..." Oh, she was lucky he liked her.

Beyond being the sole reason why she remained breathing, after uttering such a fanatical question, but boy, he was not so noble as to give it to her out of the generosity of his heart.

Not when she'd laid such bartering chips straight into his lap.

"It's going to cost you." Oh, was it ever ... And then that wicked smirk was born, sated with this scenario.

Caroline seemed to expect this – good for her – for he hardly even had to express it with any hint of vivid detail; those large, wide eyes snapped up at him, set in that constant denial, her pretty little head shaking back and forth slowly as she took the slightest, he figured subconscious, apprehensively timid step back.

"You know what I want, love." He hardly got the words out before her feisty side decided it was time to come out and play, and she was snapping out her own retort on the heel of his. "Let me guess, hot hybrid sex?!" Oh, she was on a fine note tonight. _Fantastic._ That made things so much more enjoyable.

Klaus actually chuckled, the lust swelling intently in his eyes, yet he immediately abolished her fears {which he chose to view instead as excitement, mind you} with a simple and strangely humble shake of his head. "The equipment may be right, but the time isn't."

Gaze darkening, predatory and soul-binding at the drop of that line, Klaus stalked closer, looming close enough to intimidate, and tittering at the ever expected look of flat-out denial before casting a dramatically amused glance around their _very_ public surroundings. "Nor is the place."

Of course he was conceited enough to cock an eyebrow high, askew with his own self-assured certainty that both the time and place _would _come. Eventually. It made her gut tighten, pitched in anticipation. She so did not want that.

"Deny it all you want, love. You've known all along what I'm after." Raising his hand suggestively, as though about to seductively caress those sleep tormenting curves, only battle weary fingers made contact with naught but the tip of her stubborn chin, bumping it up with an affable tap of a sole digit until those radiant eyes were his for the soaking in. Which he shamelessly did, long and hard as the fierce expression he wore molted into one of wicked affection, an intimate visual connection that bound them together, and then he leaned in, chest curving him his frame, and more notably his lips to the tip of her ear, and whispered, "Just a chance, Caroline."

She smelled magnificent, but then again she always did; this time though, particularly, as if his inner beast was reminded of its desire to mate. It struck him harder than ever, near impossible to ignore. Restraint was an art that he practiced with the refined perfection of a true and talented master in the art of dignity, for he longed for her so. Wanted to explore the animalistic nature of a man and woman, more than he had any female, from any era, and this only lit the spark to his wickedly possessive nature, that flaring up its ugly head; seething to lay its mark.

"I know you're smarter than that, Caroline." Uttered with a smirk as he circled round her, pausing only to add a cocky quip while his eyes stole a shameless glance down the curve of her back, and more notably, ass. "Nothing wrong with being clever. It's why I like you, if you recall." With that, he strolled slowly past her, back to the seat he'd only recently abandoned, and casually took his time getting comfortable.

Chivalrous in this unprecedented act of gifting his lady the chance to gain back her shaken nerve, if only because he rather liked admiring her strength, before flipping those searing, sharp eyes back up at her cheekily, chin dipped down and dimples forming in seductively slow pace. "I'm sure you've established just what I desire by now, love."

She pulled a face, nose cutely wrinkled, as the pretty little Barbie vampire tried to match him stare for stare.

It was laughable, if adorable, that she thought she could and he set down his now empty glass with a chuckle.

"What if I just want to hear you say it?" She finally said, relenting in that huffy tone she had a wee bit of a habit of enforcing whenever frustration struck her fancy. Again, cute, but not something he really had the patience for. Not currently, at least – although he did make a good effort at humoring the insufferably pretty woman, with a shrug aimed at loosening shoulders stiff from tension.

His analytical mind flying through the potential, attempting to deduce the best advantage he could possibly gleam from this, and then, as casually as if this _wasn't_ blackmail, Klaus cocked his handsome head and issued out his only demand with a boyishly charming grin. "A date, my dearest Caroline." He cocked his eyebrows up at that and leaned forward on the table across sprawling arms, smug in smirk and stature. "A _real_ one."

"A _what!?_" She demanded, stamping a heel down and tossing that beautiful ocean of blonde hair in a melodramatic flip; her signature move whenever she wanted to mock annoyance. When she was really angry, she just glared or attacked. But when it was her desire to draw attention, she flipped her hair. What? You didn't think he was keen enough to notice?

Hah; he watched her more intently than any other in this whole damnably small town. "Come now. Don't be so petulant. I've been generous enough to give you the better end of the deal."

_Even after you attempted to deceive me. _And while that part remained unspoken, the words themselves were unnecessary. His eyes relayed it all.

She was asking him what no one else could, what he would kill anyone for even thinking.

Caroline swallowed, wooed and angry all it once, conflicted over whether to agree. He knew what he was asking, just as she knew agreeing would be submitting to so much more than a single insignificant date, and for once she didn't mean that as a sexual reference. It was the emotional dam Caroline was concerned would finally break, as she'd had to take the moment to recollect herself, arms wrapped protectively around her waist and a damningly tense expression riddling her face.

Torn.

Between fear, between wanting to help Elena.

But Caroline would do anything for her friends, even risk developing feelings for a killer. "Fine." Short, curt, like she really didn't want to do it at all. Like he was forcing her, like she wasn't nervously excited on the inside, like she wasn't trying to suffocate her own smile.

"One date, as in not plural." Taking what power she could, Caroline stalked towards where he smugly sat, making sure to sway those hips like she was talking serious business. "It will be a one time occurrence, got it? I'm not falling for you." Crossing her arms about her chest as she stood in front of him, she couldn't help but smirk as though impressed with herself.

His expression a mixture of emotions, he growled. She had another thing coming if she thought he'd react well to her statement. Klaus slammed his hand down on the table and rose in a single rush of adrenaline, glaring down his anger as he found the strength to – yet again – keep himself from striking out like he would at anyone else.

Sating these violent, dark urges with a statement meant to rock her perfect boat.

"Just remember, Caroline. When you're mine." He gave her a smug smirk, leaning right in near her face – nose to nose, "I'll never allow you to be used as bait." With a final look that flashed unpredictably cold, as though genuinely irked that such a time hadn't already arrived, he shook his head and brushed past her.

Remarkably, enough of a gentleman to refrain from voicing how incessant and unnecessary he found her constant need to deny him ... Well, he was almost a gentleman about it {as much as any Alpha male could be} and emphasized his final remarks by delivering them with a theatrically finger point, as if gesturing his claim over her with vivid exclamation. "And mark my words, love, you _will_ be mine."

With that and a dimpling wicked male smirk sealing this claim, Klaus pivoted into indifference and stalked off before she could toss in any last words.

He'd delayed saving that insufferable doppelganger again long enough.


End file.
